Cold River - Carla Neggers [127]
What she wanted right now, more than anything else in the world, was to be in Southern California with her brothers—and, she thought, a certain smoke jumper turned multimillionaire.
Thirty-Eight
January 10—Beverly Hills, California
“This isn’t the right hotel,” Hannah said.
“Yes, it is.” Nick Martini stopped at the front door of the Beverly Hilton, a sprawling hotel built in 1955, its “retro chic” decor calling up glamorous images of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. “The one you picked out is a fleabag.”
She’d insisted on booking a motel for herself. She wasn’t entirely sure of the effects of being back in California on Sean, if he felt the same way about her. She didn’t want to box him in. Or herself.
“I don’t care,” she told his fellow smoke jumper, who was, she’d duly noted, in his own way as irresistibly sexy as Sean was. No wonder Rose was doomed.
Martini ignored her and typed on his iPhone.
“Who are you texting?”
“Sean,” Nick said. “I’m telling him your coach is about to turn back into a pumpkin and I’m out of here. You’re from the sticks. You like pumpkins, don’t you?”
Hannah wasn’t succumbing to his charms and said, nonchalant, “Rose says hello.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“You’re right. She doesn’t.”
Nick kept typing.
“Her brothers don’t know about you two,” Hannah said. “Sean included.”
“Blackmailing me?”
She sat up straight. “Wait. Maybe I don’t know.”
He grinned at her. “Some kind of hanging judge you’ll make.”
“Rose is one of my best friends. She doesn’t tell me everything, but enough. I just want to say her brothers wouldn’t be pleased if someone took advantage of their grieving sister.”
“By ‘wouldn’t be pleased’ you mean ‘kill dead.’ How is Rose?”
His dark eyes had softened. Whatever had gone on between Rose and Nick, he was worried about her now. Or doing a decent job of pretending to be. “I don’t know,” Hannah said. “She keeps to herself a lot these days.”
“I would, too, with three older brothers and all that’s happened this past year. All set. Climb out. Enjoy yourself.”
“I can’t afford to stay in this place for two hours, never mind one night.”
Martini grinned at her. “No, you can’t.”
Hannah realized her mistake. “I’ve been set up, haven’t I?”
“Nice to meet you, Hannah. I hope you never have to prosecute me for so much as a speeding ticket in Vermont. How cold is it there?”
“Seven degrees when I left.”
He grinned at her. “You’re going to love Southern California. Welcome.”
Hannah got out and grabbed her suitcase from the back. A sign in the elegant lobby indicated that many of the well-dressed people streaming out of the hotel had just attended a fund-raising dinner for volunteer firefighters.
Sean appeared behind an older couple. Her breath caught at the sight of him in his tuxedo. This was another Sean Cameron from the one she knew. He smiled at her. “Am I seeing things, or is that Hannah Shay?”
“Hello, Sean.”
He picked up her suitcase. “You’re staying with me.” When she started to protest, he shook his head. “No argument. I’m irritable enough being in this damn tux. Let’s go.”
“Sean, I appreciate the gesture—”
“Let’s go.”
She grinned at him. “Ah, yes. I know these Camerons when they get that stubborn set to their jaws. No point arguing.”
Sean softened his expression. “I’m trying to be hospitable.”
“Hospitable is ‘Hannah, I’d love to invite you to stay at my house.’”
“Hannah,” Sean said, repressing a smile, “I’d love to invite you to stay at my house. I have plenty of room, and it’d be a pleasure.”
She laughed. “That’s better, but I can’t—”
“You can,” Sean said.
“For Devin’s sake, then. I think he’s a little homesick.”
“He’s gone mountain biking with Toby for a few days.”
Hannah smiled in amused disbelief. “Okay. So he’s not even a little homesick.”
“Nick and I encouraged him to see some of California and get in shape if he wants to be a smoke jumper. Toby doesn’t want to admit how excited he is to have you here for